


A Long Way From Home

by cataclysmicwrites



Category: The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: Best Friends, Brother-Sister Relationships, Brotherhood, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Eventual Romance, F/M, Family, Friendship, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Little Sisters, Protective Siblings, Romance, Siblings, Slow Burn, Slow Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-30
Updated: 2020-06-01
Packaged: 2021-03-02 19:40:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 14,708
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24452251
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cataclysmicwrites/pseuds/cataclysmicwrites
Summary: along the road to Paris, devastation seeks twin siblings in the death of their father. With heavy hearts and a thirst for vengence the d'Artagnan twins move forward, entering Paris with nothing but death of Athos, of the the Kings Musketeers on mind. Little did they know, they were walking into a brand new life.
Relationships: Aramis | René d'Herblay/Original Female Character(s), Athos | Comte de la Fère/Original Female Character(s), Athos | Comte de la Fère/Sylvie (The Musketeers 2014), Porthos du Vallon/Original Female Character(s), d'Artagnan/Constance Bonacieux
Comments: 5
Kudos: 25





	1. PART ONE

Leaving Gascony came with a downpour as the heavens finally parted, though, it’d been warm, when they’d set off that morning, no signs of rain for days. But with this shower and clouded skies, it filled her stomach with a sense of dread that no one could deny. She rode behind her brother, they were small for their ages, twenty three, her brother being the elder of the pair, barely ten minutes, sitting upon the one stead as they headed towards Paris. 

Their size was not the only reason for their shared stead, the pair of siblings that followed behind their father didn’t come from money or nobility, their family were farmers, now in need of reprieve from the King, the taxes hard on them as the winters passed. They were barely surviving and rising taxes to King Louis XIII was making it near impossible. 

The feeling of dread never left her, not even as her father teased her brother upon their request to stop, the rain had soaked her to the core, leaving her huddled close against her brothers back as she fought ripples of ice that her body shook with. But Charles had always been her closest sibling, it wasn’t just that they shared a birthday and age, but rather their older sisters were but mere strangers, having been married three years after her own birth, with children of their own now. 

“Oh, I could ride all night,” the sound of the fathers jest reaches her ears as she huddles closer, the rhythmic jostle of the stead below and the patter of rain against the wet dirt almost non existent now as a small smile stretches over her lips. “But, if you’re saying you two need to rest.” before he knocks the horse into a slow canter, closer to the tavern they rode alongside, leaving the young pair to chuckle in response before following. 

Slowing to a stop in front of the tavern, Charles slides from the horse almost in tandem with his father, turning to grip the girl, with sodden ringlets of dark hair by the waist, helping her from the horse. Though she knew how, though she was capable of getting down herself, he was raised a gentleman and while she was raised the same as him, a worker on their family farm, she let him play the gentleman for now. 

The rain never eased as the pair gathered the reigns of both the yellowed steaded she’d named as a babbling babe and their father's horse as the elder d’Artagnan headed into the tavern, looking to secure lodging for the night. The feeling of dread in her stomach only grew as she took to securing the horses to the wooden beams as her brother desaddled them, petting them down with a gentle tone.

It takes barely minutes but in those minutes men arrived, masked and cloaked in the king's colours, the musketeers stormed into the tavern but those that entered the stables where silent, steps hidden beneath the downpour, so silent that it wasn’t until sodden tendrils were gripped tightly in a gloved grip and a squeal broke the barrier of lips that she realised that they had Charles aswell, the pair stood shoulder to shoulder as the male was stripped of his weapons, his rapier dropped into the mess of hay beneath their boots and his pistol whirled away from them, but her focus was on the ice cold grip the man before her had on her thigh, her breath was shaky, her eyes were wet and not with sadness but with fear. This is what the dreaded feeling had meant.

But before her thoughts could process further, her skin released from grip as a loud gunshot was heard in the quiet landscape. This only spurred Charles to act, it became as if it were a dance, his closed fist met the face of the masked intruder only to spin and have the other clash with the man behind him. His actions only gave her courage to move herself, she was no fighter, but she wasn’t naive, it was with a quick lash of her leg outward that her foot found purchase, injuring the man who could only groan, dropping to his knees as the grip on her arms tightened now.

Her head jerks back with a grunt, unlady-like as it was, it’s rewarded with a yelp of both surprise and pain, leaving her arms free as blood dripped from a broken nose. However when she turned to face her attacker, a haphazard fist was swung in her direction, knocking her to the ground below as dots clouded her vision.

By the time all this had happened, Charles had fired the attackers own pistol at him, sending him back towards the horses and taken ahold of the other assailants rapier, whirling the weapon around in his grip. A hint of a smirk is found on his lips as the others scramble away from the siblings, out the barn doors. Charles moves to follow, only pausing by Madeleine to check on her, to which she waved him by running a hand across her face, pressing her cooled hands to the burning cheekbone before she followed her brother out into the rain, watching him yell after the group that rode away.

“I couldn’t stop them.” he admits, turning away from the escapist catching sight of both his sister and father, before turning back to those who now were out of sight and reach. Madeleine gave a saddened look towards her brother, before she caught sight of her father, moving towards them with a hand to his stomach. Something wasn’t right, the feeling in her gut only worsened as her father reached Charles side.

“Papa?” she questions, reaching for him, the almost timid barely heard before her father collapses. “Papa!” it’s urgent now as she too falls to her knees, cradling Alexandre’s head in her hands. “Papa.” it’s now only a broken sob as the man stutters out a barely audible word. Charles speaks in tandem with his sister, their panic blends into one voice, both holding on to the last of their family.

“Athos.” it’s a breathless chant her father seems to say, once, twice, three times as the children beg him with mumbled pleases, a pray on Madeleine’s lips as the light drains from his eyes, leaving the d’Artagnan siblings to cradle a lifeless body in a pool of mud and blood.

It’s then, in the shivering cold that Charles looks at his sister, the sadness on her face, is not mimicked on his. But replaced with anger and she knows that look, she’s seen it on boys in their village many times, not at her, but she’d seen it. He wasn’t going to rest until he killed this Athos. 

And she wasn’t going to stop him.

The innkeeper offered them a room for the night, a place to rest their heads after they buried their father in an unmarked grave. Gascony was too long to return to, Paris was too far to take their father. They, or rather Charles declined, what good would a place to rest their heads do when it was the same place their father was murdered. They couldn’t stay. Instead they merely mounted the steads and headed for Paris. 

They rode through the night, Charles looping the reigns of their horses together for safety, he wouldn’t let anything happen to Madeleine, not now, not ever. They rode into almost midday before they found themselves in an inn, in the centre of paris that wasn’t too costly to them.

“Twenty sous for the bed, ten if you share.” the Innkeeper tells them as they follow her up the stairs. The place obviously is the cheapest around, creaking floorboards beneath their feet and what not. “Any lice or crabs?” 

“No thanks, just bed and dinner, for the both of us.” Charles answers facetiously, glancing over his shoulder at her with a look that can only be considered as disgust as the woman opens a door, only to squash a large cockroach.

“This is a very clean house.” to which Madeleine doubts very much so, glancing around the small room. “Dinner is extra.”

“Clean water?” the girl pipes up from behind the taller male, peering at the woman. 

“Extra.”

“Soap.” Charles ventures, but the moment the woman is opening her mouth, a gloved hand is raised, cutting her off. “Don’t tell me. I can guess.” he concludes.

“But use of the communal towel is free.” This only causes bile to rise in Madeleine's throat, glancing away from the woman completely in disgust, the woman leaves hem with that as the girl moves into the room, leaving Charles to close the door behind them. 

“ _Charlie_ , we should have returned home.” By now the tender skin of her cheek was a deep purple, almost the same shade as the riding cloak she wore, the soft skin around her eye almost black as she peers at her brother with sad eyes. “We shouldn’t have come here.”

“I have to kill him. For papa.” he tells her and it’s the same thing he told her and each time she had no reply. As much as she wished to return home, to mourn the loss in the comfort of her home, to heal with Charles, she knew he would never heal until the man who murdered their father was dead. She knew him far too well. 

“I can’t lose you too.” she whispers, it’s barely anything but it’s accompanied by a sniffle and a drag of fists across lashes. Warm hands press into her skin, gentle around bruised skin as he tilts her head towards him. His lips press into her skin as her own arms curl around his waist.

“You will never lose me. I will never let that happen.” he promises and she doesn’t dispute him but the ache in her chest tells her that one day he won’t be there. But instead, she says nothing but holds him tighter. “Let’s get some food and then we can get some sleep, you’re exhausted.”

She can only nod, following him down to the lower floor of the house. They curled into a small booth in the back corner close to the hearth of a raging fire and soon enough bowls of thick meaty stew and wine were placed before them, though the pair barely picked at them, Charles drinking both and ordering another round to which Madeleine also didn’t partake. She only smiled sadly, tapping the utensil that sat beside his bowl. She refused to let him drink on an empty stomach.

They sat there, in that little back table booth, for hours, talking occasionally, mainly staying warm by the fire. Night had come, bringing in a chill as the door opened, revealing a large man, his robust form sporting no doubt expensive clothing, followed by a woman with equalling expensive garb. 

“We’ll have your best room.” the man states with zero care to the surrounding patrons. “And if the bed has fleas, you’ll be whipped.” the accent is noticeable, though Madeleine finds herself unsure of where it’s from, it was not french, that much was sure.

“And draw me a bath.” The woman was certainly french, with dark locks piled high and gloved hands closing the door, sealing the room from the chill it brought in. “Be sure the waters clean. I don’t want to bathe in someone else's' scum.” it’s not a request, it’s a demand and even she isn’t a fool to doubt that, however, she’s turning away back to the warmth of the fire.

“Clean water is extra, madame.” Charles speaks up, startling her. She has half a mind to ram her foot into his chair, but she barely gets the chance to take a breath as her head turns in his direction. “Don’t even ask about the towel.”

“Are you addressing me, sir?” the robust man questions and Madeleine knows in that moment that Charles wasn’t about to back down, it was never in his nature. Fingers clasp the bridge of her nose as she shakes her head. This was not going to end well for them.

“Not unless your name is ‘madame’.” her brother retorts with a bored expression. The man having moved in on the pair, staring down at them with an air of superiority. 

“Excuse me, Milady, while I teach this oaf, a lesson in manners.” The man was only putting on a show for the pretty lady it seemed. But by the time he turned back and drew his sword, Charles had stood, pistol raised in the man's face, leaving Madeleine to stare at her brother before standing herself.

“Put it back or I’ll blow your head off.” Charles speaks with a tone that she’s never heard before and the surprise is evident on the man's face. 

“You are not a gentleman.”

“That stings.” 

Madeleine takes a moment before she’s reaching for her brother's wrist. “He’s just some drunken thug, Mendoza put your sword away.” The lady behind the small group speaks, eyes on the young pair of siblings as the man relinquishes his grip on the sword, slamming back into his scabbard. 

“We’ll settle this at breakfast.” He announced, Madeleine rolls her eyes, dragging Charles’ arm downward until he’s tucking his weapon away securely. 

“I’ll be in the courtyard at eight.” is all Charles offerds before sitting once more, watching as Mendoza follows his lady up the rickety staircase as he drinks from his cup.

“You most certainly will not be in the courtyard at eight.” she snaps at him. Eye wild with disbelief for a moment at her brother. “Are you insane?” 

He doesn’t give her an answer and she just watches him as he finishes off his cup and then proceeds to rake hers once more. She only sighs and leans back in her seat, shaking her head. They sit together for another hour before Charles finally rises, eyeing her slight but she simply shakes her head.

“I’m not tired.” She was of course, and he knew that, but the memories of the previous day still haunted her and she wasn’t as strong as he was. She didn’t want to close her eyes. “I’ll be up shortly, i’m just going to stay by the fire a little longer.” he gave her a nod that was filled with uncertainty before he trekked up the staircase out of sight.

Madeleine sat there for hours to come, just relishing in the warmth that her body felt. She’d assumed that Charles had already lost his battle with sleep as he’d stayed away for far longer than normal and she wouldn’t want to disturb him, so she stayed away. 

She didn’t know when she’d fallen asleep but she was awoken by a shrill scream and accusations of ‘that’s him.’ The echoed denial was easy to distinguish, causing her to gather herself and bundle out the door they’d come in the day before, out into the streets of Paris, watching her brother jump from the window. “You idiot. What did you do?” she scolds as the woman from the inn hollers out the window down to them. Charles picks himself up without much thought, grabbing her hand and hurling them into a run.

They ran down an alleyway before emerging into a throng of people. Voices shouted behind them but the blood rushing in her ears made them indistinguishable. She could barely breathe as it was and soon enough she was pulled behind a pillar.

Charles wasted no time, pushing her back against the cement and grabbing the closest lady, the woman with fiery hair made a noise of complaint before he was offering her five livre to kiss him. Though he didn’t give her much choice and Madeleine was ready to smack him for that alone but as fast as the kiss had occurred, it had ended, leaving Charles to watch the ones that were chasing them run past. “I can’t believe that worked.”

Madeleine was open to open her mouth to scold him but the woman had forced her knee in between his legs and pulled a knife from the stall behind her on him. “You degenerate! Touch me again and I’ll gut you like a fish.” she threatened and if she hadn’t of been holding a blade to her brother, Madeleine perhaps would have congratulated her, but now wasn’t the time. 

“My apologies, Mademoiselle.” Charles groaned out, Madeleine now aware of the hand that held his side and swooped in close to the pair, offering her brother a hand to straighten himself.

“It’s Madame.” the woman corrects him.

“Madame.” Charles repeats, pulling her close and moving around the madame as he did nothing but watch the brandished knife as so to avoid it’s tip. The pair needed to move and move quickly, away from anywhere that they might be found. “We won’t trouble you any further.”

“My apologies, Madame.” Madeleine murmurs as they pass the woman completely, though it comes out tight, barely anything from her throat as Charles begins to weigh down on her. It was then that the woman really noticed her, not that it mattered to Madeleine really. 

“Are you two alright?” she questions as Madeleine's hand meets the table beside them, as if hoping it would give her strength to get her brother out of trouble. 

“Do you know the way to the Musketeers Garrison?” Charles questioned and Madeleine was about to drop him out of shock. He couldn’t be serious could he? He could barely walk.

“No.” Madeleine answered. “Not now, not like this.” it was spoken for no one else, it was a whisper to Charles.

“Why do you want to know?” The woman questions curiously.

“I have some business to settle on our fathers behalf.” 

“You really don’t look well.” she tells him. And it was true, there was no denying that his weight was on his sisters shoulders as they stood, his breathing labored. But the stubbornness in him booted enough energy for him to push himself upward but that didn’t last long. 

He toppled forward, fingers curling around Madeleine’s dress as he fell to the ground. “No, no, no.” Madeleine chants as she moves with him catching his head before it makes contact with the ground below, fingers tapping at his cheeks relentlessly. “Come on, wake up. Don’t do this.” 

She was so focused on Charles that she hadn’t noticed the woman kneeling down beside her, checking on the male before she caught two passing males and asked them for assistance. 

“What are you doing, don’t touch him!” the girl sneers but a warm hand connects with her shoulder, it’s the woman again. Madeleine doesn’t register what she’s saying, not really. It’s jumbled words of taking her brother back to her home, helping them. But she can’t offer a response, not a verbal one as she men carry her brother and the woman helps Madeleine to her feet.

“What’s your name?”

The question is posed fifteen minutes later as the woman helps clean the wound and bruises her brother's side. Madeleine glances up from the clothes in her hands, teeth buried in her lower lips, worrying the skin relentlessly.

“Madeleine d’Artagnan, Madame.” the brunette answers after a moment, dropping the linen into the warm water before scrubbing at her face, wincing as fingers press too hard against the mottled skin that matched her brothers side. 

“Constance, Constance Bonacieux.” The lady returns with a slight smile, though it’s not anything that reaches her eyes as they scan the bruises on Madeleine rather than her brother now. “Did he give you those?” she questions once more, though the question posed is hesitant, worried almost.

“Oh lord, no. He could never.” His attitude said otherwise, but Charles d’Artagnan was no woman beater, he would never lay a finger on a woman for any reason. “He’s my brother and we ran into complications on our journey is all.” she tries to brush the thoughts away with a shake of her head. 

The woman looks as if she’s about to ask yet another question but the rustling of her brother between them disrupts her thoughts and causes Madeleine to glance at her stirring brother.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you for taking the time to read ! i've been rewatching the musketeers during quarantine and was compelled to get back into my writing. if you enjoyed this, please feel free to leave kudos or comments as they'd be greatly appreciated, updates should come weekly, if not every other day. 
> 
> this story will follow alongside the tv series with minor changes, i also welcome all constructive criticisms and ideas send my way ! it's undecided as to what pairings with occur for my original character, so all thoughts and ideas are welcomed !


	2. PART TWO

“You idiot.” she announces as brown hues peer up at her. “You absolute idiot.” but he’s faster than she, his hand closing around Constance’s wrist before she has a chance to pull away from his brow.

“Where am I?” he questions and it’s as if all the anger that Madeleine hadn’t been shown bubbled from Constance. 

“My husband’s house.”

“She was kind enough to take us in when you collapsed.” Madeleine scolds him as if she were their late mother, the furrow between her brother mimicked perfectly. “You should thank her.”

But he did no such thing, instead he scrambled from the bed with a lot of effort and a groan. “No, I can’t stay here.” 

“Now is not the time, you’re not well.” Madeleine pipes up but she seems to be barely spared a glance as he stands, only to bump his head on the low hanging rustic chandelier before pulling his linen shirt back on. “Don’t be ungrateful.” 

“I have an appointment with the musketeer, Athos.” she was ignored in favour of his need for revenge. She hated it so desperately when he got locked on to ideas but she’d always been helpless to his whims and followed behind him, if only to make sure he never got himself killed. She understands it, she does. The name boils the liquids in her stomach, hatred churning in her chest as brows link together, but Charles wasn’t a murderer, justice or not.

“I know him.” Constance states from her spot, not having moved yet. “Is he a friend of yours?” to which Madeleine shakes her head sharply, mouth now drawn tight as she moves to watch her brother closely.

Madeleine stays quiet as the pair jostle back and forth, Constance trying to quell Charles’ need to leave, stating facts that the d’Artagnan twins already knew. She watched her brother with a sad look. Madeleine and Charles were two sides to the same coin, while Charles resembled their mother, warm skin and eyes that looked like melted chocolate, Madeleine was their fathers daughter, her hair though dark, wasn’t the deep darkness like their mother, but a thick mess of brown curls much like Alexandre had before he began to grey with age, her skin was akin to his, pale and almost glowing in the sunlight, though often her nose was red raw from the heat, her skin warmed with spots from the sun, dotting cheeks and shoulders. Her eyes though were the exact shade as Charles, a warm melted gaze that no one could deny were the same.

The youngest d’Artagnan was unlike her elder sisters, Celeste and Antonia, both poised and respectful, but that was where the three girls ended in likeness, Celeste was tall, fair skinned and dark haired like her mother, but with a bright smile and the ability to charm anyone she meets. She’d married before the twins turned five, at sixteen to the butcher's boy, they visited the family once a year, but with two children with another on the way, they’d halted the visit. Celeste was the kind of girl men wanted to marry, to settle with, she was the perfect house wife, she could cook and after all, she’d practically raised Madeleine and Charles with the death of their mother.

Antonia on the other hand was wild, full of life, her hair auburn hair turned to flames in the sunlight as she ran through the long grass. She was the girl who could never be tamed, though many tried, her husband not included but the girl sought for adventure, she found it in a travelling performer by the name of Davide. Letters are received monthly from a new place, filled with so much joy that Alexandre could never regret letting her go. 

Madeleine however was a quiet one, she observed from a distance and always trailed her twin, in hopes of saving him from himself. She was a gangly thing, her sisters these elegant women, like their mother, she was all elbows and knees until her sixteenth birthday. She was the one, alongside Charles, who knew nothing but stories of her mother. She was never without a book near her person or a cup of tea in her hands, she was the one that never gave their father any trouble. 

“You’re a beautiful woman, I’m sure you’re used to it.” an exhale is passed loudly through her lips as Madeleine watches her brother tug on his boot, she stands from the chair by the bed.

“Stop being so rude, you heathen.” she scolds with a frown to rival that of their fathers, dark eyes almost piercing as she peers upward at him. 

“I should have just left you in the gutter.” Constance’s words paired with that of her own seem to snap Charles out of whatever vengeful haze he was in. Remorse fills the brown of his eyes as his eyes drift from his twin to the woman across the room.

He’s picking up his belt as he speaks and it has Madeleine chewing at her lower lip. “My apologies.” he speaks, it’s smooth and warm, almost as if he hadn’t been angered moments before. “I’m not always so ill-mannered.” In that moment, Madeleine has to agree, her hand gently cupping the protruding angle of his elbow with a small smile. “Might I enquire the name of my savior?”

“Bonacieux, Constance Bonacieux."

“Athos killed our father, Constance.” Charles admits, glancing at her before looking back to the woman with auburn hair. “That’s why I must face him.”

Constance takes a moment, as if trying to decipher the words that leave his mouth, when it seems they do, her own dark eyes are rising from her hands to look at him.

“I’m d’Artagnan, please think kindly of my name.” he tells her, giving neither women the chance to respond before he’s passing the threshold. “If you think of it at all.” 

Madeleine sighs, knowing she has to follow. Charles was her biggest downfall, if a brother could be considered a downfall. While she was never the one to cause their father trouble, often, Charles was and not far behind, she would be. Often she got pulled into messes to get her brother out of them, he’d jump to defend her, but she’d save him from himself most of the time. 

“Do you support that, you know he’s going to kill him?” Constance spoke up as Madeleine made her way to the door frame, unsure of what to say in lieu of her brother;s departure.

“No. But if I don’t follow, I’m afraid he’ll lose his head.” she admits, swallowing thickly as she shakes her head. She didn’t want Charles to be burdened with someone’s death on his hands, not even for avenging their father, but she understood why. She truly did. “Forgive our intrusion, Constance. Thank you.”

Her hand catches the doorframe a few moments before she completely departs, turning back to the woman with a small smile. “His name is Charles, not d’Artagnan.” and like the wind, she is gone, skirts gathered in her hand as she moves to catch up to her brother, unaware of Constance’s stare out her window above.

Her arm links with his elbow as she struggles to match his pace. “Are you sure you must do this?” she questions softly, worry filling her throat as she slows them to a gentle walk, in hopes of discouraging him, though she knows the attempts are futile.

“He killed him, Mads.” was the response she got, the one she knew she would. “I have to do this, for him. For you. For me.”

“Is killing him worth your morality? Is it worth the weight on your shoulders?” She questions. “You were not made for killing anyone?” 

“I have to do this. For Father.” There is a finality in his tone that not even she, a sister who fears for her brother’s life, can fight. So instead she nods, tightening her grip on his elbow as they continue their walk.

It’s moments later that Charles spots a trail of Musketeer uniforms leading them to exactly where he wanted and so they follow, moments later again they’re making their way through the garrison gates, Charles pauses for a moment, hidden in the dark shadows, pressing his mouth against her forehead before he draws his pistol.

She swallows thickly, catching the tree uniformed men, noting the stature and the fact that one had a rifle poised on his shoulder as he made his way to the lonely table by the stairs. That set fear deep in her stomach most of all, if they were with Athos, having shot Alexandre, what would stop them from shooting Charles first?

“I’m looking for Athos.” It’s Charles’ voice that breaks her thoughts and she has no time to stop him. Not as he steps out of their shadowy place, into the light, pistol clicking as he raises it in the mans direction.

“You found him.” The voice that answers in return shocks her, causing her to step forward into the light, but not as Charles had done, she stayed close to the concrete structure, a look of worry etched in her face. 

The three men who had dismounted the horses paid no mind to her it seemed, their attention on the boy in the garrison wielding a sword at one of them. “My name is d’Artagnan of Lupiac in Gascony. Prepare to fight, one of us dies here.” 

She prays, and she prays that it is not Charles who dies here. He cannot. She couldn’t lose him either. Not now. Not ever. 

“Now that’s the way to make an entrance.” The man's friend pipes up from his spot on the staircase from behind him, to which Athos does nothing but draw his sword and move further into the yard.

“Can I ask why?” he was polite, she’d give him that much, his sword send a whirring noise through the quiet garrison as he almost twirls in around his body.

“You murdered my father.”

“You’re mistaken, I’m not the man you’re looking for.”

“Murderer!” Charles does nothing but yell and charge for Athos and Madeleine looks away, focusing on something else, the clash of metal on metal, brown eyes focus on the two friends who watch in fascination. Almost joking with one another and her stomach churns. They thought it amusing that her brother or their friend could die, what kind of men where they?

Her mind is pulled back to the fight as her heart pounds in her chest, blood rushing in her ears as Athos yells, pinning Charles against the wooden structure of the stables, a dagger dug into the soft wood above his head. “That could have been your throat.”

Madeleine hoped that was the end of it, but her brother was a Gascon right to his core, the famed Gascon temper was something that coursed through him and she knew he wouldn’t let this end, she knew it. 

“Don’t make me kill you over a mistake.” Athos tells him, releasing him. The action finally allowed Madeleine to release her own breath and take a step forward towards her brother, she was barely even spared a glance by him, or the others as he focused on Athos’ retreating figure. “I didn’t kill your father and I don't want to kill you.”

“Charles. Let’s go.” But even as the others finally noticed her, her brother ignored her call, instead he grips the dagger above him and sends it towards Athos with a heaving throw. It would have met it’s mark in Athos’ shoulder had his friends not been smart enough to watch him.

“That could have been your back. Now fight me or die on your knees.” Charles demands, rapier pointed at the man, fire burns in his eyes and anger in his chest.

“See, your lady over there is smart.” The taller of the group, speaks up from his spot by the table, arms folded. “Go home.”

“I don’t care which.” Charles continues as the garrison falls eerily quiet, with nothing but birds chirping and sounds from outside the gate. “No?” he sneers before giving a yell and charging at the man once again, only to be intercepted by one of the others. 

“He said enough.” the Spaniard tells him, hand gesturing to his friend.

“Very well.” Madeleine breathes a sigh of relief, she figured this was the end, that they could leave and Charles would still be alive but it becomes short lived. “I’ll fight both of you.”

He lunges at the men, swords clashing with theirs until two becomes three and they’ve pinned his sword to the wooden bench. Gathering her skirts she moves closer. “Charlie please, do what they say and let’s go.”

He spares her a look before he is shaking his head, fighting all three of them at once, had they been boy from the village in Lupiac, Charles would of bested them easily, it would of been nothing but a game, but these were men and sure enough, they had him pinned to the stairs faster than she thought possible.

She slips closer weary of swords all pointed at her brother, hand pushing the largest males chest with all her might, though he didn’t budge. “Please, stop.” 

“Stop fighting!” a familiar voice fills the garrison and Madeleine breathes a sigh of relief but gives the male another shove, something she would have never done to a man in uniform, but his sword still threatened her brothers through, she needed to move him. “All of you.” She speaks as head turn towards her. “Is three against one fair? Not to mention her in the middle of it?” She scolds haughtily.

“We weren’t going to kill him.”

“Weren’t we?”

“Next time let us know.”

“Madame Bonacieux, what are you doing here?” The man named Athos questioned as the others began to put away their weapons, the woman in question moving towards the d’Artagnan twins.

“I followed them here because I knew he was going to do something stupid.” 

“I don’t need a woman to protect me.” Charles hissed at her as he stood, that only made Madeleine shove him in the shoulder, still mindful of his side.

“Shut your mouth Charles.”

“Don’t say another word.” Constance hisses back, looking ready to hit him as well. “If only men would think instead of fight.”

“There might be some good ones left.” Madeleine adds, following her brother, gathering his fallen belt and pistol for him. 

“Him, I'm not sure about. These two ladies, I like.” 

The stand of that seemed to be happening between the three Musketeers and Constance while the twins gathered his things was interrupted by the incoming of an older gentleman, the color of scruff across his jaw a sign of age. “What’s going on here?” he questions, glancing between the very mismatched group of six. “Never mind, did you find Cornet?”

“He never made it to the Monastery, give us twenty men and we’ll search the road to Chartres.” The man however, one Madeleine assumed to be the Captain stared at the ground for a moment.

“Athos, I’m sorry.” He said with a wave of his hand. “These men have come to arrest you.” Two men with metal armor linked with red leathers stepped forward, just behind the man. A look was shared between the two Musketeers still unknown to Madeleine as they stood, hands on the handles of their swords ready to draw in aid of their brother. “You are to appear before the King immediately. Charged with robbery and murder.”

Madeleine stood beside her brother watching the scene unfold, but eyes drifted from the three to Charles catching the look of confusion on his features, one that she was sure mimicked those of her own. It was only when the man admitted he’d promised the guards no trouble that the other two, the musketeers who had jumped to aid their friend released their hold on their weapons.

“I’m not the man you’re looking for.” Athos says turning towards the pair that stood quietly behind them, Madeleine wrapping her arms around Charles’ waist moving with him as he chose to move closer, following the male as he turned back.

“Why did my father name you before he died?”

“I don’t know.”

Athos didn’t return his gaze to them or anyone else in the garrison, he simple walked out surrounded by the guard in red, his friends watching quietly, just as confused as everyone else.

“Well, that’s enough excitement for you two. Let’s go.” Constance spoke up after a minute of complete silence, watching the twin intently before ushering them out of the garrison back towards her home. Madeleine followed, her arm still around her brother as she glanced backwards toward the two left behind.

By the time they’d returned to the Bonacieux residence, the sun had already begun to dip low, sending the sky into violet and orange hues. The woman had ushered the pair into her dining room, sat Madeleine down in a chair with a chalice of wine before forcing Charles into another so she could tend to his wounds. Minutes later, another man walked in, Constance took a moment to explain the situation to him before she introduced him as her husband.

“Jacques-Michel Bonacieux at your service.” The man, with ill fitting facial hair, Madeleine decides quietly as she watches Constance fuss around her brother. “Merchant in fine quality cloths and linen to the nobility. Perhaps you’ve heard of me?” He speaks to both the twins though his eyes linger on d’Artagnan.

“Afraid not, Monsieur, we’re not from Paris.” Madeleine speaks politely, watching the emotion roll over her brothers features in the fire light. Dark eyes find hers with a grateful smile, small, but she’d notice it anywhere.

Bonacieux gives a quiet hum before leaning himself against the mantle, eyeing his wife and her work on the farm boy. “So, how did you come by these injuries?”

“My injuries don’t matter, I’ve failed our father.” A forlorn sigh passes her own lip as a frown creases her brows. She knew for a fact that there was nothing in the world that Alexandre’s only son could do to fail him, even now. Madeleine refused to believe it. She would see to it that Charles would never think that again. “I came to kill the man that murdered him but all I found were more questions.” The Gascon shakes his head, turning back to the fire. “I can’t rest until I know the truth.”

She’d been about to open her mouth, to demand he had to rest before anything else. But heavy footsteps and towering bodies disrupted her words, the two men. The Musketeers now stood in the Bonacieux dining room. Madeleine had raised from her seat just as fast as Charles had, reaching for the butter knife that lingered within reach as Charles gripped the handle of his sword.

“That’s lucky, because rest is out of the question.” The Spaniard from before announced walking after the maid. His friend following close behind with an almost warning few _woahs_ , hands raised in what seemed to be surrender.

“We’re not here to fight.” His deep voice is directed at her, brow raised at the badly concealed utensil in her grip, in turn she placed it back on the table slowly, watching the pair warily as her brother stood poised still to fight.

“Those Musketeers who attacked you, would you know any of them again?”

Charles frowns for a moment, glancing over at her for a second. Her shake of her head enough to say that she hadn’t seen their faces either. “They all wore masks.” She could almost hear the bones cracking in the larger males fist as he clenched it tight, sharing a look with the other one.

“He shot one of them, though.” She pipes up before she can stop herself.

“His body might still be there at the inn.” Her brother adds with a look what she can only call hope. The two Musketeers share another look before nodding, a silent conversation.

“Alright, saddle up. We’re leaving.” Charles wastes no time in gathering his things turning to his sister before anyone can leave the room. She knew that look. She knew it well and before he can even open his mouth, she’s speaking.

“No, I am going with you.”

“Mademoiselle, this is no place for a lady.”

She turns on the Musketeer, her face like thunder. She didn’t care what they thought, her brother wasn’t going without her. Not back to the place they had to bury their father. Not back to the place where their lives were shattered. He wasn’t going back there alone.

“Good thing I’m not a lady, Sir.” She all but spits, turning back the Charles. “You don’t go if I don’t.”

“Mademoiselle, your husband will be fine.” The other Musketeer speaks up. “We’ll bring him back to you.”

This caused both Charles and Madeleine to splutter out breaths. “He’s not my husband.” And “She’s not my wife.” Are sent into the air, chuckles hidden behind the hand of Constance.

“He’s my brother, and he’s not going without me. We lost too much at that place, I won’t lose him too.” Madeleine argues and Charles knows that there is no fighting her on this. Not this time. He gives the pair a look as if to say that they were a package deal, you wouldn’t get one without the other.

“Fine, saddle up. Now.”

Worry seemed to have gotten the better of Constance, Madeleine notes as she speaks up, stopping them once more from leaving the room. “This morning you try and kill them and now you’re all best friends?” Shock taints her lips as she glances between the men in the room.

“Athos’ life is at stake, he’s to be executed in the morning for crimes he didn’t commit.” The Musketeer explains, gesturing to the Gascon and his sister to follow his friend out the door. “Forgive the intrusion, Monsieur.” He tells Jacques with a lift of his hat before he too is walking out the door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you for taking the time to read ! i've been rewatching the musketeers during quarantine and was compelled to get back into my writing. if you enjoyed this, please feel free to leave kudos or comments as they'd be greatly appreciated, updates should come weekly, if not every other day.
> 
> this story will follow alongside the tv series with minor changes, i also welcome all constructive criticisms and ideas send my way ! it's undecided as to what pairings with occur for my original character, so all thoughts and ideas are welcomed !


	3. PART THREE

Madeleine moved with haste to the horses that stood out the front of the Bonacieux home, two others had joined her own and Charles’. No doubt belonging to the two Musketeers that appeared seconds later. Her warm fingers stroked the snout of her father's horse, or rather the horse that was now claimed as hers, pressing her forehead to the animal's necks as she greeted it.

Growing up on their farm had left Madeleine with knowledge most girls in France did not have. Being the only girl from the young age of seven, with only her father and brother to raise her, though it was never the latter who did, she knew how to defend herself, she knew how to fight. She could man a field as well as any man, she could ride a horse just as fast as her brother. But she was still a girl, no, a woman and she was still raised as such despite being raised by a widowed father.

She loved animals, almost as much as she loved the yellowed pages of books, but she would often spend hours in the stables of their home simply speaking with the animals, as if they could answer her back, she had no use for her own horse, nor did they have the money to get her one but she happily spend her time with the two they did have.

The serene moment in the noisy area was disrupted by the deep voice of another, a bear of a man speaking up from beside his own horse. His own dark eyes watching as she murmured at the beast, her hands gentle against its neck. “So, what’s your name then?” 

Dark eyes turn towards the Musketeers, the Spaniard now interested as he pulls himself onto the stead with ease, the other doing the same. “Madeleine, sir.” 

“No sir here, Mademoiselle, just Porthos.” The same man tells her, a kind smile slipping across his features, something that drags her own smile in return. “He’s Aramis.” She acknowledges his words with a nod before mounting her own horse as Charles did the same. 

“Pleasure to meet you, despite circumstances I suppose.” She muses, taking a moment to situate her skirts before taking the reins with ease. “And if it’s not sir, it’s not Mademoiselle, just Madeleine is fine.” She tells them, there were very few who called her anything but Madeleine, Charles aside.

“Madeleine, pretty name for a pretty girl.” Aramis muses, a wink sent in her direction though the flush that spreads across her neck and up to her cheeks is blocked by Charles forcing himself between them, demanding they go. Madeleine gave a nod to her brother before he took off in front of the group, soon enough they were out of Paris.

They were perhaps maybe an hour or two out of Paris before the tavern came into view and the place sent a shiver down her spine, this place was filled to the brim with bad omens and despite the snow that covered the ground, all she could remember was the bloodied mud below her father's body and smell of blood and gunpowder. 

Madeleine slid from her stead as did her brother and she took the reins of his horse from him, she didn’t want to walk into the tavern, she let her brother do that. When he returned moments later with shovels, she could only frown, they were going to dig up a body.

Soon enough the three men had uncovered the not yet decaying body as she stood behind them, gloved fingers picking at her dress in hopes of not looking at the body now upright, greyed in color. She just thanked the Lord that his eyes were closed, she didn’t believe she could stomach a lifeless stare.

“He’s no Musketeer.” Porthos said, looking over the deceased.

“Look at his clothes.” Charles replied, all four sets of eyes dropped the body below, even her own as she noted the two holes in the worn leathers. “There’s two bullet holes.”

“So?” Aramis questions after two heads swivel to her brother in almost practiced tandem. 

“He only shot him once.” Madeleine tells them, curling arms around her middle as the Musketeers glance over their shoulder at her before Porthos drops into the grave below.

“This is the shot that killed him.” He murmurs, flipping open the uniform to reveal a red stained entry wound with a decisive nod. “And this hole ----- doesn’t match any wound.”

“It means he wasn’t wearing the uniform when it was fired.” The Spaniard muses, looking up from the body.

“But someone else was.” The other muses, straightening out and catching the gaze of his friend.

“Cornet.”

Madeleine frowned slightly as the three males reburied to body before returning to the horses. Charles returned the shovels to the tavern keeper before they all mounted once more, this time, the two siblings following behind the Musketeers.

Their travels became almost silent for a good half an hour, moving through the snowy countryside, that was until Porthos, who had slipped into the lead through a narrow gully, spoke up. The brunette couldn’t help but glance around at the risen peaks of dirt and snow lined with trees.

“If I was plannin’ an ambush, I’d do it here.” He tells them, his eyes scanning the surroundings. “Plenty of cover, good sightlines. Cornet wouldn’t have suspected a thing.” It’s tactical thinking, smart and even she, with no knowledge could see it was smart. They’d moved slowly through the gully, only stopping when they found a slightly leveled access point to the ground above.

The group of four dismounted, climbing the raised dirt slowly, hands outstretched towards Madeleine as she followed Porthos, his grip helping her over the ledge to which she thanked him with a smile before turning to help him pull Charles over the rise.

Snow dampened the hem of her dress, it was deeper here, footfalls sinking into the covering as they moved over the new area, Charles kept a steady watch on his sister as she moved slowly, his muscles ready to strike should danger arise. 

It was Aramis who let out a soft whistle, catching everyone’s attention and a sinking feeling settled over them all as bodies lay before them, the calling of crows louder than the heavy pounding of her own heart. The man gave a flick of his cloak at a bird before crouching near one of the bodies, a mournful sigh escaping him.

“Cornet.”

Porthos was the first to react, turning away from the bodies with a vicious kick at a nearby crow, the bird fluttering away in fright before he stalked back towards the horses, sliding down the way they came up before turning and waiting for the other three.

“They shot them like animals and stripped them of their uniforms!” He was angry, there was no mistaking the tone in his voice, you couldn’t.

Charles turned to Madeleine after landing on his feet, gesturing with a wave of his hand as she paused at the top, there was no lady like way to get around this, not even with her brother's help. But she made the descent hoping no one had caught the rise of her skirts as she did.

“d’Artagnan, the men who did this, killed your father as well.” Aramis spoke, following the twins as they moved towards their horses, Charles stripping his cloak from his shoulders and curling it around her shoulders in hope of fighting off the cold he was sure her now dampened skirts were only making worse. “If you want justice, help us find them and clear Athos’ name.”

She couldn’t help but watch the emotion stretch across Charles’ features, only to look away as Porthos tugged angrily at his saddlebags, tightening the straps before something in the debris caught his eyes. She’s confused for a second as he retrieves the golden coin from the ground turning back towards them.

There’s an almost manic smile that stretches across his lips, she notes as he brandishes the coin, a doubloon. “Was Cornet carryin’ Spanish gold?” he questions, brows raised. A gloved hand digs through the pockets of his pants, pulling a small handful of coins, including another doubloon. “You can go a year in paris without seeing a new Spanish doubloon, this makes two.” he tells them. “In a week.”

“Where did you get that?” Charles steps forward, passing Madeleine and Aramis to get a closer look at the coins before Porthos pockets them again.

“I won it.” Madeleine frowns. “In a card game with a red guard.”

Without wasting time, the four mounted their horses again, headed back towards Paris. By the time they reached the gates the sun had dropped past the structures, sending an afternoon glow around the city. Madeleine had followed behind the Musketeers despite them suggesting she should return to the Bonacieux residence but with a firm shake of her head, she followed behind them to a closed in cellar of sorts beneath a run down building. 

“You two stay here, we’ll be back shortly.” Aramis instructed, lifting his hat in their direction before he left them in the empty cellar, Porthos following behind without a word. 

There was a part of her that worried that they were being left behind, there was another part that was grateful they had left them here but the path Charles had created with his pacing on the hay riddled floor was enough to know he wasn’t going to stand being left behind. Aramis had already admitted needing her brother’s help, they weren’t going to be left behind.

“What are we going to do when this is over Charlie?” she questioned lightly, moving to set on an abandoned cart just out of direct light. “Do we go home?” He glanced over at her then, dark eyes uncertain and even in the dim late she knew he too had no idea what came after this.

“I don’t know.” He admits, but before he can open his mouth once more, whether to comfort her or anything, the barn like door is shoved open and a body pushed through and maneuvered to their knees in the middle of the room, Porthos and Aramis towering over them with ease.

The actions had startled Madeleine into standing, moving closer to her brother, out of the Musketeers way as the yanked the bag from the hostages head. Scraggly long dark hair is mussed with a look that Madeleine can call as frightened. A noise of confusion slips into the quiet air.

“Time to pay the reckoning for Cornet.”

“I bet he’s going to say:  _ I have no idea what you’re talking about _ .” 

Porthos and Aramis continue to bounce back and forth, causing the male to look between them, lips parting every so often to answer them but is never given the chance. It intrigues her, the way they speak, as if they’d practised it in polished glass.

“I was just following orders.” the man admits, Aramis now crouched in front of him, so close they were breathing the same air with every inhale and exhale. A look of distraught across his features. Madeleine stayed quiet, like usual, just watching the entire exchange beside her brother.

“He was just following orders.”

“We’d better let him go then.”

There seems to be a sigh of relief from the male at the words that leave Aramis’ mouth but it’s short lived as Porthos moves to grip his shoulders, hauling him to his feet. “I can’t tell you! They will kill me.” He tries to tell them.

“No need for that, we’re not brutes.” 

Madeleine isn’t too sure about that statement, brows raised. This whole situation was brutal, they’d all but kidnapped a man to torture him for information. “We’ll just shoot him.” With his words, her blood turns to ice, watching the tall Spaniard move towards the musket leaning against a wooden pillar not far from him.

“What? No listen, you can’t.” The man tries to bargain, this only causes the bear of a Musketeer to chuckle before shoving back towards the opposite pillar.

“You know, people say I’m quite good with these.” Aramis gestures to the small rope in his fingers, however the bile that bubbled in her stomach has Madeleine feeling physically ill, like she can’t stand to be in the same room right now. Not if they were going to shoot him.

“I’ll be outside.” she swallows thickly, whispering to Charles before she’s leaving the little barn beneath the ruins and heading to where they’d left their horses, arms curling around the steads neck in hope of distraction from the incoming sound that would be a gun.

It was barely ten minutes later, ten minutes of her fingers braiding and untangling a mane, only to repeat, that she finally heard something, but it wasn’t a ricocheting bang from a musket but rather the opening of a door and four sets of footsteps coming towards her.

“You okay?” Charles’ voice reaches her ears as she glances up at him with a nod. She was fine now, the man they’d taken hostage walking between Porthos and Aramis.

“Yeah, I’m okay.” she murmurs, pulling herself up on to the stead with ease as others do the same, leaving the man, Dujon, to walk beside Porthos. They rode to ruins just outside of Paris, the sun dipping behind them, bringing on the fast approaching night and a chill along with it. 

Under the cover of darkness the group of five crawled through the snow after leaving the horses back a few yards, out of sight. Finding a mound to conceal them from enemies eyes they watched quietly, Aramis pulling a spyglass from his coat pocket.

“Gaudet keeps his camp well guarded.” Dujon spoke up, turning towards the Musketeer beside him. “You’ll never surprise him.”

“Shut up.” came Porthos’ gruff response with his elbow meeting the man's ribs.

“The bridge is the only way in or out.” he removes the spyglass, glancing over at her brother and Porthos. “There’s too many for a frontal assault.” Brown eyes drift from the males to the musket that lay between him and her on his other side. “I could take out a few from here.

“By the time you reload, they’ll be gone.” Madeleine pipes up, four eyes swiveling to meet hers as she offers a slight shrug. 

“She’s right, it wouldn’t work.” Porthos agrees. “Now if we’re going to capture Gaudet alive and get back those uniforms, it’ll have to be by stealth. We need a distraction, something they’d never expect.”

It’s quiet for a moment, contemplation filling the air as they all tried to think of something, Madeleine’s eyes moved away from the camp to her brother as he looked over her. “I have an idea.”

Madeleine takes a glance back at the camp filled with men before glancing at her brother again who’s eyes are still piercing her very soul. “No.” it’s all she can say, as if she’s read his mind, leaving the three other men confused at the interaction between the twins. “No. Certainly not.”

“You wanted to help.” he tries to convince her.

“Charles, I look nothing like a working girl, not to mention why the hell would one come out here in the middle of the night?” She questions, trying to instill logic in his thought process as recognition fills the two Musketeers behind them. “Besides where would I even get a dress?”

“Bonacieux is a dressmaker, we can ask Madame Bonacieux?” Aramis piped up, the Musketeers contemplating the idea. Madeleine whirled on him, eyes burning.

* * *

“This is insane.” she mutters under her breath, though she’s not alone as she walks towards bridge, her arm locked with Constance’s, who too had been roped into her brothers stupid plan. “I’m sorry.” she mutters towards the older woman who is shifting slightly to fix the strap of her dress. “I’ll get him back for dragging you into this?”

Constance doesn’t have much of a chance to respond before a gun is pointed in their direction, a question of their wants raised, causing the woman to straighten up, a sultry smile slipping across Constance’s features as she steps closer. “Fifty Sous and we’ll take you to heaven.” 

“Are you two some religious nutcases?”

“It was a metaphor.” Madeleine pipes up trying to ignore the icy breeze blowing across her bare shoulders, the corset making it harder to breathe as it pushes against her ribs. The guard however shrugs as if what she said meant nothing at all. “Never mind.”

Shaking her head, Constance moves closer, one hand pulling Madeleine with her as she smiles again. “You can do whatever you like, we’re all yours.” The pair manoeuvred the guard until his back was facing Charles and the Musketeers, where they needed him. 

His fingers skimmed the line of Constance’s collarbone, fiddling with the auburn hair. “Eh, five sous?” 

“Five?”

“Alright ten, but that’s it.”

Madeleine sighed, “Fine.” the pair moved again, her fingers moving to the collar of his leathered cloak with a small smile, however large hand peak out from behind the guard as Porthos catches him off guard, there’s a small struggle between the pair before lack of oxygen causes the red guard to fall lax in his grip.

But as quick as he started, he released the guard and dropped out of view, the voice of another red guard chilling Madeleine to the bone with fear. “Oi, my turn next!” Soon enough she’s raising the arm of the now unconscious guard, waving the other.

“Excuse me.” Porthos mumbles, pulling the guard from them before moving past the two females with a slightly strained smile. 

“Ten sous? Shame on you two.” Aramis teases, passing the pair as Porthos topples the male in his grip over the ledge of the bridge, his words drag an indignant scoff from Constance before Madeleine catches her brother staring down at the bare skin of the Madame’s chest, without thinking she’s cuffing the back of his head firmly, scowling at him as he looks at her.

“I’m in your debt.” he tells Constance softly.

“I’m doing this for Athos.” he nods at her before his eyes drift downward once more. “Stop looking at me like that.” Constance scolds, shoving at his shoulder lightly.

“You two stay over there and you’ll be safe.” he swallows, pointing towards the knoll they’d hidden themselves behind earlier before he’s pulling his pistol from his belt. “If you’re in any danger, use this.” the weapon falls into her hands before he’s running off with the other two leaving a shivering pair of women in his wake.

“Do you know how to use that?” Madeleine questions softly as they settle out of sight. Constance gives a slight shake of her hand causing Madeleine to take the pistol, loading it easily, like the many times she’d done it previously, though now it felt wrong.

“How do you know how to do that?” 

“I grew up with Charles and our fathers, my mother died in the birthing bed with us and my sisters were all married before I could really remember them, so whatever our father taught Charles, I got to learn as well.” she explains quietly before placing the pistol between them. 

Constance opened her mouth to say something but it’s interrupted by a vicious shout of her brother and her heart clenched tightly, almost forcing its way up her throat as the sound of gunshots filled the quiet landscape. She couldn’t sit here, not after she’d heard him yell, not if she didn’t know he was okay. “I have to go after him. Stay here.” She tells Constance, her hand slipping beneath her own skirts to pull the dagger from her thigh, now thankful she’d worn it. 

“You can’t go in there.” Shock crosses worried features at the sight of the slender dagger.

“I have to.”

Without another thought, Madeleine is running across the snow, heeled shoes forgotten in the snow as she crosses the bridge. She’s weaving through the ruins, in the shadows out of sight. She’d lost Charles in the fray, unable to see him but she’d caught sight of Aramis fighting off five guards with a little trouble as one tugged on his cloak. She moves forward without thinking, dagger clutched him her hand, catching one guard off guard as she digs it into the dip between his shoulders, giving Aramis the needed reprieve to take out the remaining attackers as she incapacitated one. 

“Thank you.” he nods in her direction as she shoves the male away from her, her dagger coming back bloodied as he sends a small prayer for the fallen men. He looks behind her at the other Musketeer who offers her a strange look as she catches his eye.

They move together, towards the middle of the camp, her dark orbs catching sight of her brother knocking Gaudet to the ground, his sword and the fallen man's sword crossed at his throat. 

“d’Artagnan!” Aramis calls loudly, interrupting the scream her brother releases, ready to sever the murderer's head from his neck. “We need him alive.”

She doesn’t hear what her brother says as Porthos pushes more men into a small huddle, the men that weren’t now lying around lifeless. He catches her eye once more before he moves closer, curling his cloak around her shoulder with a smile. “You did good.” she’s distracted by the larger man but her eyes catch movement.

“Charlie!”

“d’Artagnan!” 

Both were called in tandem as Gaudet moved towards his retreating figure with a dagger, her brother swivelled with ease, his sword slicing through the male before he could strike, with a push Gaudet falls to the ground, joining the rest of his comrades. 

Her brows creased as an ache had settled in her chest, it was riddled with a sick feeling of relief, but it hurt all the same to know her brother had to kill the man, not only for their father but to save his own skin. He moved to her side in an instant, his arms curling around her shoulders as hers found a tight grip on his waist, just holding him until the pain subsided, praying that guilt would not flood his being in times to come.

A soft whistle is heard and her head his turning towards Porthos as it rests against Charles’ chest. “The stolen uniforms, they’re all here.”

“With Dujon’s confession that’s all the proof we need.” Aramis tells him as Charles finally releases his grip on her with a kiss to the crown of her head, before he’s moving towards a staggering Constance. Madeleine watches them for a moment before Charles is wrapping a cloak around the woman and she’s turning away, wrapping the Musketeers cloak closer around her.

“Where did you even get that dagger from?” The question comes from Aramis as Charles leads Constance towards the horses, Porthos finding a back exit to the ruins to lead the cart of stolen uniforms towards the horses as well, with the pair following him. 

“I’ve had it since leaving home.” She admits, her father having giving her the weapon as protection. 

“Where were you hiding it?”

“A lady never tells.” Was all she told him with a pink hue dusting along her cheek bones as they finally made it back to the horses, Porthos creating a pulley of sorts to the cart with his stead as Charles and Constance sat upon his. 

Madeleine took a moment before mounting her own, settling her skirts, or rather the skirts she’d borrowed from Constance around her. It was done, their fathers murderer dead, his death avenged and she couldn’t help but wonder what now.

The return to the city was quiet, following behind the Musketeer and her brother, the twins stopped at the Bonacieux house, allowing the woman to change, Madeleine changing back into her now dry dress and bodice before returning to her brothers side as Constance settled herself into her room and made no effort to return, only to tell the pair that they could lodge in her spare rooms until they needed, before the twins headed towards the garrison.

They spent the early hours of the morning explaining to the captain of the night's event before they were taken to the palace, Madeleine had stayed by the horses in favour of not angering the King for her involvement, though it was not her idea. However she didn’t make a fuss this time, simply waiting for the return of the men. 

Soon enough, she was following them into the chatelet, disrupting the execution before it could really begin, she stood on the stairs behind her brother, resting her hand on his shoulder with a gentle squeeze, watching the comrades before her laugh together.

Athos had been the first to move, only pausing in front of the siblings to level her brother with a small look of appreciation, one that Charles could only respond with a smile as the elder man drifted away, followed by his friends and the siblings as well.

Chains were removed and the offer of joining the Musketeers came from Aramis as the siblings made their way to return to their lodgings, Charles had readily accepted, a budding friendship in bloom, but as three sets of eyes turned on her, Athos having already begun to the trek to the nearest tavern, she simply shook her head. A tavern was no place for her.

“Forgive me gentleman, but I’ve endured enough excitement for the time being.” She tells them, moving to press a soft kiss to her brother's forehead, though she had to tug him downward to do so, causing a few chuckles to escape the Musketeers. “You stay safe, I'll see you later. Gentleman, I bid you adieu.” she tells them.

She barely makes it into her room of the Bonacieux residence, collapsing on the bedding with a soft sigh, unable to fight the oncoming sleep as the sun rose higher over Paris.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you so much for the kudos ! that concludes episode one of the series, friends and enemies. the following chapter will touch on the gap between this episode and episode two, i want to stretch this story over more than just the show itself but like always, please leave a review and let me know what you think ! i'd love to hear your feedback.
> 
> if you're interested in a visual for Madeleine d'Artagnan, i draw her inspiration from Lily James in Pride and Prejudice and Zombies as well as stills from Romeo and Juliet she preformed ! I will eventually conjure up a pinterest for her muse shortly, but until then !


	4. PART FOUR

It's with groan that Madeleine awakes the following morning. Her eyes fight the oncoming light that floods the small lodging as discomfort blooms in her chest with realisation, she'd fallen asleep in her dress and the bones of her bodice beginning to cut into her skin.

Hunger blooms in her stomach as she rubs methodically at her eyes, turning orbs to the open window, exhaustion had ripped at her very being leaving her to sleep through the day before and into the night, it wasn't something she was proud of and when she awoke moments ago, fatigue still linger, clouding her mind in a thick haze of sleep.

Rising from the palette bed, she ripped her hands through the tangled mess of her hair, glancing down at the thoroughly worn dress still wrapped tightly around her body with a sigh. Arms stretched out in front of her as bones popped loudly, she was in desperate need of some clothes and to find her brother. She slipped from the room quietly, headed down the stairs carefully treading over the slightly creaky ones as she headed towards the dining room.

She was expecting to find her brother sitting at the dining room table, instead it's empty except for Constance standing by the window peeling potatoes before dropping them into a pot of water to her left. "Good morning." Madeleine murmured as she stepped fully into the small room, startling the woman by mistake.

"Good lord, we're going to get you a bell." Constance muses, having dropped the knife to the table in shock at her entrance before chuckling softly, turning towards her. "I thought you might of died up there, if it weren't for you breathing."

"I'm sorry, who knew running after my brother could be so exhausting." She jokes lightly, moving to Constance's side to help her with the peeling, despite the woman trying to shoo her away. She definitely knew how running around after Charles could be, whether it be in the streets of Paris or in the fields of Lupiac.

"You two are very close." To which the Madeleine could only nod. She knew most siblings fought, hell, her earliest and one of very few memories she had of Celeste and Antonia was of them fighting each other, they were opposites in so many ways and not even their small similarities could save them from their arguments. But she'd never had that with Charles, sure, they got into small bouts of differences but they usually would sort it out faster than it would happen.

"He's all I've got really." She admits. "I mean, last night I told you about my mother and sisters, we were a strain on our mother, we were born early and left unprepared our mother died about a day or two after we were born, Celeste, our eldest sister was married when we were no older than five, Antonia not long after so it's just been us and our father until now. Charles has a knack for letting his temper get the best of him, if I didn't pull him from scrapes I don't think I'd have anyone in the world left." Sadness twinges at her tone as she frowns, her focus on the potato in her grip.

"Speaking of that brother of yours, he didn't get in until late yesterday afternoon." Constance murmurs, guiding the conversation away, to which she's thankful for the soft touch of her hand against her shoulder.

"I left him in the hands of three Musketeers headed to a tavern so I can't imagine the state he returned in." Madeleine shakes her head. "Still in bed, I suppose?"

Constance shakes her head lightly. "Actually, he was sober with no sign of those boys behind him, he checked in on you before eating and crashing out as well, but he was up this morning with the birds and said something about the garrison before he was off."

Madeleine frowned slightly, confused as to why he'd return to the garrison. "The garrison, he went back there?" They had no business with the Musketeers anymore, the past few days had ended with the release of Athos' after the death of the man Charles had come to kill.

"He mentioned meeting up with the others. I think he's made friends with them."

A small smile swept across her features at the turn of events, she hadn't expected Charles to make nice with them enough to want to stay in Paris, but there was a touch of worry in her thoughts, what was she to do here? Was she even to stay? They couldn't stay with Constance and her husband forever but the only money they had came from their farm. Who would want to marry a farm girl in Paris?

It wasn't that she wanted to marry, not when Charles was the only family she had left, she couldn't bear to leave him, but the thought left her cold. It was different on the farm, she knew she'd marry another farmer's boy, possibly the boy across the fields, Bertrand, but in Paris, she wouldn't have that luxury of staying close to her family.

"God forbid he not find trouble." She shakes her head, clearing all her thoughts quickly as she finishes the last potato before helping Constance moved the pot to the fire. "I suppose I should go check on him, we haven't really spoken since the whole Gaudet incident."

"You eat first." Constance scolded, hands moving to the girls shoulders before nudging her towards the chair. "And bathe, you can borrow one of my dresses, nothing like that other one." she promises with a small wink before fetching her a plate with a stick slice of bread and an apple from the tree outside. Madeleine has to wonder as she chews slowly, is this what having a sister was like? Would have Celeste done the same? Antonia maybe not, but would the eldest?

"Thank you." She murmurs gratefully as a cup of water is placed before her, a warm smile from the auburn haired woman who is sure enough turning away once more to gather the peelings. Constance was a welcomed warmth of friendship, the woman older than the twin but not by much, maybe two or three years but she'd welcomed them with little complaints when she didn't need to and Madeleine couldn't thank her enough for that alone.

By the time Madeleine had finished eating and cleaned up after herself, Constance had emerged with a dress for her and a warm bucket of water to wash with. Left alone in the room once again, Madeleine was quick to scrub away the layers of dirt that coated her skin, memories washed away with the dirt before the water cooled.

She dressed quickly after that, the breeze almost chilling as the water dried, the dress left behind was a thin fabric that covered her arms to the wrists in a cream sort of colour, sewed neatly with a drawstring in the back before it flared to just above the floor. She moved towards the polished metal in the corner of the room, pinning her hair into a neat bun, trying to tame the sleep tousled curls into something she could deem appropriate.

The bruise beneath her eye still discoloured but seemingly lighter, a pale blue compared to the almost onyx shade two days prior, it was still noticeable, even as the edges of her cheekbone paled with a yellow hue but it no longer looked severe.

Constance offers her a smile as she steps back into the dining area, now clean and looking more awake then she had before. "I have to head into the market so I thought I might as well walk you as far, the garrison is barely a stone's throw from there." She's told as Constance gathers a basket in her arms and speaks to the young girl who helps around the house before the two friends are off towards the marketplace.

Their walk is mostly silent, apart from a few landmarks being pointed out, including an old bakery at the request of Madeleine who'd spotted the darkened shop between a flower stall and a blacksmith. She told the old woman who runs it doesn't have much in the way of money, her husband and only child having died years ago, she was slowly ailing. Madeleine frowns to herself for a moment, telling herself she'd come back when it looked like the shop was open or she'd ask Constance to point her out at the Marketplace at least.

Madeleine was no baker but she'd picked up a few things from one of the women who worked in the kitchen on the farm and she'd rather enjoyed that to say the least and it made life easier on her father when she could feed them without the fear of poison as they once jested.

Soon enough, Constance was directing Madeleine in the direction of the Garrison before turning to the stalls around her and after a few yards, the sound of clanging swords and a bout of laughter told her exactly where her brother was. She stood in the entryway once more, this time with a small smile on her face, watching as Porthos tipped the Gascon over his shoulder and into the pile of hay one of the stable hands had swept into a tall heap.

"It appears, we have an audience." The welcomed words of Aramis reach her ears as eyes move from the sparring pair towards the bench, seated with him is Athos, watching the pair with a cup in his grip, his mouth lifted slightly to one side.

"Good morning gentleman." She greeted, stepping further into the garrison as Charles rose from the heap Porthos had left him in, brushing hay from doublet and hair as he made his way over to her.

"I checked on you when I got home and this morning, you were all but dead." He teased softly with a warm hand to the back of her head.

"I fear I may have scared Madame Bonacieux with the amount of time I slept." she returned brushing her hand over his shoulder to remove the hay he'd missed. "You're not causing trouble are you?" Brows raised at him as he shook his head, pressing his mouth to the crown of her head.

"Never."

"Always." she amended as he led her closer to the table where Porthos had joined the other two, a cup now in his hand as well. "I hear you invited him out this morning?"

To which both Aramis and Porthos both chuckle behind their cups as the former offers her a slight shrug.

"I don't believe you've properly met, Madeleine, this is Athos, Athos this is Madeleine." Aramis introduced as he shuffled over on the bench to allow room for the twins to sit with them, Madeleine easily sitting on the seat while Charles chose to seat himself on the tabletop on the other side.

"Really Charlie, must you be such a heathen? Tables are for food." She scolds with a shake of her head that causes snickers from all three of the Musketeers as his cheeks pink under her gaze. "Forgive him, he was raised in a barn. And Athos, it's a pleasure to meet you, Sir, despite my brother trying to kill you."

To which she received a nod and a small, barely there smile in response. "All is forgiven." She in return offers him a smile, feeling more relaxed this time in her garrison than she had previously. Perhaps it was spending the amount of time she had with two of them days before, but she felt at ease around the three men as if they radiated calm even though they looked every bit as devilish as the soldiers they were.

"d'Artagnan!" The call comes from above them, the balcony above stands the man now known as Treville more so than just the captain she'd been referring to him as. Of course, the look of confusion that riddles her brother's features has her own brow deepening in fear that he had gotten himself in trouble for gallivanting around with the two men and in turn herself.

He turned away from the man to look at her with a slight shrug, it was the only answer he had to her non verbal question of what did you do? Before he's taking the wooden stairs two at a time at the beckoning of the captain to join him in his office.

Her face must have given away her emotions as Porthos' voice dragged attention back to the three men around her. "He's not in trouble?"

"Am I that transparent, gentleman?" To which Aramis gives her a chuckle and a nod before she's frowning at him. "What did he want?"

"We may have had words with the Captain yesterday afternoon, I think he's giving your brother the option to train with us." The bear of a man admits from behind his cup, watching her with dark eyes. And with such a simple sentence her brows relaxing and a small smile slipping across her mouth.

There was never a day where she didn't worry about her brother and if he chose to stay in Paris, with the Musketeers, it would be no different, she'd still worry like a mother hen but at least he'd have a faux family, after all these men seemed more brothers than friends in her eyes.

"You did that for him?" Kindness was something she offered ten fold, it was free and easy to give, however often times it wasn't received in the same way. She knew most little boys wanted to be a Musketeer, it was common knowledge and why she had never heard the words from her brother, she doubted he wouldn't take it by the reins.

"He saved Athos' life, we owed him thanks and he's a quick study it seems." Aramis tells her with an easy smile.

"Well thank you, I was worried he'd begin to look for some excuse not to leave Paris yet. Getting himself into more trouble." She jokes.

"I hear we also have you to thank for your help." Blue orbs crash over her faces as she looks from the two men she knew to the one she didn't. The one that had spoken after a bout of silence.

"Oh please, Monsieur, no thanks needed." She denies his thanks politely.

"She's a polite little thing, it's a pity the whelp isn't more like her." Porthos jests lightly.

"She has a name. Use it." She scolds with a smile that lacks malice, as does her words. "But really, please, no thanks needed, I only did what anyone else would."

"No you jumped into a fight to save a man from an attacker, a man you didn't know at all. Not everyone would do that." Her cheeks tint darkly as she looks away from the men to the table below.

"I'm still curious where you kept that dagger." Aramis adds after a moment of watching her suffer with the weight of Athos' words. "Come on, I must know."

"He won't stop until you tell him."

"A lady never reveals her secrets." she tells them all. "At least not when she barely knows those who ask." her smile turning playful as she offers it to Aramis.

"I'll get it from you."

"Good luck with that, she could take a secret to the grave if she so pleased." The voice of her brother rang out over the garrison as he stood at the top of the staircase. His voice had her rising from her place beside the Spaniard.

"Everything okay?" It's not verbal, but with the tilt of her head that has the men at the table watching the pair. Watching as the two siblings speak without words before the male is by her side, his arms curled around her slender waist and spinning her around with a bout of laughter.

The d'Artagnan twins had always been able to communicate with less than words. Whether it be gestures or their eyes alone, their father used to jest that it was magic and their bedtime tales became whimsical day dreams but as they got older, they began to learn it was simply the fact that they'd created a language of sorts between them, that they were so in tune that words weren't always necessary.

"We're going to have to get used to that silent conversation shit aren't we?" Porthos murmurs, leaning towards Aramis across the table.

"He offered me a place to train here, with them." Charles tells her as he places her on her feet and she's smiling up at him with a happy smile.

"Good. But promise me you'll stay safe. As safe as you can?" She asks of him, dark eyes searching his face.

"Don't worry Mademoiselle, we'll look after your little brother." It's Athos who speaks again, watching the pair with fascination as they turn in tandem, a look of unhappiness trails across Charles' face as she can only laugh.

"I told you everyone thinks you're the youngest." She teases him, patting at his shoulder gently. "Serves you right for acting like a caveman half the time Charlie."

"You're older?" The men question her brother.

"Only a little."

"Define a little?"

"Ten minutes or so." Madeleine tells them with a smile. She was proud that they were twins, it wasn't a common thing really, very few made it out alive, both mother and children so she wasn't shocked by the faces the three Musketeers peered at them with. "Someone has to make sure he doesn't lose his head with that temper of his and with our sisters married before we had a chance to really know them, I ended up looking out for him." She also took pride in knowing that most of the scrapes he'd gotten himself into over the years, she'd ended up saving him from them.

"You truly are a rare thing, aren't you Mademoiselle d'Artagnan?" His voice turns her insides to mush as he speaks, two pairs of eyes turning back on him with raised brows as Charles pulled her closer as if sensing something she couldn't.

"Perhaps, Monsieur." She offers Porthos a smile once more before turning to Charles. "I only dropped by to check on you, I might see if Constance is still in the marketplace, you and I will talk more tonight, don't be out late please?" She tells him, knowing for a fact that now he was offered a place to train, he wanted to spar more.

His warm hand meets the back of her head once more, pressing his lips to untamed curls before he's nodding, pulling his purse from his hip. "Take this, get yourself some more clothes, we'll write to Bertrand tonight about the farm, we'll be staying." Her smile doubled ten fold at the mention of them staying, not because they were staying in Paris but because he hadn't hesitated on her staying with him, he'd, without prompting, decided that they were staying in the city, together.

"Okay, I'll see you tonight."

"Let me walk you, I have errands to run and I'm sure your brother can only handle being thrown around so much." Porthos taunts before rising from his seat, gathering his hat in his hand, purposely ignoring the amused look from his friends.

"If you're sure." Madeleine agrees, pressing a kiss to her brother's cheek before moving towards the front of the gate with Porthos, though she swears she heard Aramis muttering something about Porthos and errands but she chose to ignore it in favour of the offered arm that her own hooked around.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay so this is part one of the gap between friends and enemies and sleight of hand, as you can probably tell the decision of shipping has been made. I see so many Athos or Aramis centric stories and i love Porthos with all my heart and he got scraps when it came to romance in the show and while i think elodie was great and what Porthos did for her was so nice, i believe it was rather forced at the very end, so i wanted to give Porthos a sweet romance. however while it seems it might happen quickly, i have plans and this is just the beginning.
> 
> as a reminder, this fanfic is not solely based on romance but on family and friends, hurt and comfort also. all episodes will last about three chapters i'm hoping with two or three chapters in between unless the story allows for immediate continuation !
> 
> as always, thank you so much for reading and please leave a comment, i'd love to hear your feedback ! kudos are loved as well !


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